Solitude: Uprising
by maetel999
Summary: When Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak kills High King Torygg, what does it mean for the citizens of Solitude? Will they side with the Stormcloaks or stay loyal to the Empire?
1. Death of Torygg

**Author's Notes: **I've envisioned all the cities of Skyrim to be much bigger than they are in the game so I'll be adding on to them. There will be many original characters in the story but they'll won't be lore breaking. I hope. Some parts might slightly alter the lore but it shouldn't be a really visible change unless you know the lore to the e. Read and review if you'd like! Thank you! Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks save for the OCs.

* * *

The night sky spat lightning and rain as a cloaked figure on a horse galloped past the Solitude stables, waking the inhabitants of the farm. They'd barely had a chance to raise their heads before he'd whisked on through. The brief flashes of light illuminated the stone walls of the city looming ahead and the figure smiled. It was a fitting entrance for one with a name such as his. Stormcloak – Ulfric Stormcloak to be exact. Although with his trademark dirty blonde hair, stocky build and square jaw – the very essence of a Nord warrior, it was hard to mistake him for another person. He pulled back on the reins of his horse to stop her to a canter then to a trot Solitude's gates barred his way. "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak? Is that you? What business do you have with Solitude?" A faint yet excited voice drifted down from above the gates. "I have much to… discuss with your king, gatekeeper."

"Aye. I thought as much."

Roggvir strode over to the lever and pulled. The gates opened at an agonizingly slow pace and as soon as there was enough space for a horse to squeeze through, Ulfric kicked his mount to action. Roggvir slowly mouthed what he knew the Jarl had come for as the skies burst open with thunder, foreshadowing what was to come. He clutched at the Amulet of Talos that he wore in secret under his guard armor, the faintest hints of a smile pulling at his lips. As Ulfric's figure receded into the distance, he took a knee and whispered the smallest of prayers for both of them.  
"Talos guide us."

* * *

The streets of Solitude were awake by now despite the time. The Jarl's appearance in the city had provoked a number of reactions ranging from loud cheers to screams. People trickled out to catch a glimpse of the Stormcloak on his course for the Blue Palace. Boldened by his absence, the trickle turned into a stream of citizens all conversing wildly about his visit. Many could guess at what he'd come for but few chose to express their beliefs publicly. Instead, they spoke of a number of things ranging from a social visit to an invitation to taste Evette San's famous spiced wine.

"He's come for Torygg's head!" Mathies Bjornsen stepped out into the night. He was a fiery man, full of energy being in the prime of his youth. Aged twenty and six years, Mathies had never been one to fear whatever consequences his words would bring him. "I say, he's come for Torygg's head!" He shouted again into the streets. His words soon captured the crowds' attention and they looked up towards him. Mathies clambered on to a nearby barrel to further be seen by them all. The Nord was met by a barrage of insults and calls for him to "shut up" and "sit down" but Mathies could see those in the crowd who agreed with him. They shared the same rebellious spark in their eyes.

"I-"

"That's enough! Shut it, Mathies!"

A young Nord woman, dressed in the gear of the Solitude guard pushed her way through the crowd and gripped his arm. She pulled him down and hissed in his ear. "Are you crazy? Do you have a death wish, Mathies?" She dragged him away from the crowd and into an alley. Without him, the people returned to blindly guessing on Ulfric's motives once more, their stressed voices combining to form a confusing clamor behind the duo. Mathies pulled his arm out of the guard's grip and flushed an angry shade of scarlet.

"You know it too, Jeanne. You know damn well what's beginning."

"I have no clue what you're talking about Mathies. All I know is that-"

"Shut it Jeanne! Why else would Ulfric Stormcloak be here? You've heard the rumours; just like any one of us."

Mathies sighed and pushed her out of the way to rejoin the crowd. He stopped at her raising eyebrow and offered a small, "I won't talk again tonight," before disappearing in the sea of bodies. _A sea, which was swelling and well on the breaking point_ she noted. Tempers had risen over the smallest arguments and some had begun to take it out physically. Jeanne bit the inside of her cheek before signalling to her fellow guards. Together they waded into the crowd, ushering the people back into their homes. "Break it up, break it up! Back inside – there's nothing to be worried about. Back up!" Their cries reminded Jeanne of shepherds and their sheep but even this amusing thought wasn't enough to push out what Mathies had said before. She turned her gaze towards the Blue Palace and hoped against the odds that Ulfric really had come to taste Evette's spiced wine.

* * *

Ulfric made his way to the gates of the Blue Palace. Dismounting his horse, he gave the castle guard a stern look which made the man bite his tongue. Instead of asking what his motives were, he instead opened the door rather hastily giving the Jarl access to his goal. Ulfric strode across the decorated floor and marched up the ornate staircase and onto the third floor. Just across from him sat the High King Torygg surrounded by his loyal counsel and his wife. His young face bore a pleasant expression of surprise compared to Ulfric's steely gaze.

"Jarl Ulfric! To what do I h-"

"High King Torygg. I hereby challenge you to a duel for your right to bear the title of High King, to sit on the throne and for your right to govern Skyrim. You cannot refuse."

Upon being greeted with this challenge, Torygg's eyes widened in shock before they drooped down sadly. So, the rumours had been true. Ulfric was serious, any fool could see that. There was only truth lined in the creases of the Jarl's face. Torygg knew that with the older man's experience, expertise and last of all, the Thu'um – there was no chance. He looked upon his wife, Elisif the Fair, with a small smile. He was not afraid to die no, but the thought of leaving behind Elisif to grow old by herself was almost more than he could bear. Thinking of the lonely years in store for his wife almost made him call out for his guards to take Ulfric away. His lips twitched and he was saved from the indignity of crying by his steward, Falk Firebeard.

"This is nonsense! Jarl Ulfric, with all due respect, you cannot simply barge in here and… and," he had a difficult time getting his mouth to form the next word, "_kill _the High King!" This was enough to send Elisif beyond her breaking point and bitter tears started to drip from her eyes. She let out a muffled groan at the unfairness of it all – what hope could Torygg possibly have against an opponent like Ulfric? They had been recently wed as well and the memories of their wedding danced through her mind tauntingly. What of their vows to remain forever together? Their love? Did that mean nothing to the Stormcloak? Elisif softly spoke out, each word catching in her throat. "Please, I beg of you. Please reconsider!"

Ulfric remained impassive in the face of despair and looked pointedly towards the High King. His hand stroked the pommel of his blade, ready to be brandished at a moment's word. Torygg still looked down, drinking in his wife's lament and his counsel's outrage. The yammer of his housecarl, thanes and wizard combined was ruining his last moments thinking of Elisif. When he finally looked up and raised a hand, the entire palace grew silent. Torygg looked aged and weary, easily ten times older than Ulfric himself. The sight scared Elisif but she spoke no more but closed her eyes in despair as Torygg uttered a single phrase. "I accept."

Ulfric smiled then, breaking his stony face with a flash of white teeth. He motioned for Torygg to step forwards off his throne which the king promptly did. He watched Torygg draw his steel blade and walk cautiously towards his opponent. Ulfric could tell his inexperience from the way his arm quivered slightly from holding his blade. He could practically smell the desperation coming from the king. Torygg ran forwards with his blade up high. His battle cry rang clear though the palace as Ulfric prepared himself. For what it was worth, at least Torygg would face Sovngarde with nothing but courage. A familiar tickling feeling started in the bottom of his throat. A rush of power flowed through the Stormcloak and it threatened to explode him if not ejected. Taking in a deep breath, the Jarl shouted.

"FUS!" Torygg stumbled, a defeated look in his eyes.

"RO!" The Thu'um pushed the King to his knees and his counsel began to yell, drawing their weapons.

"DAH!" With the final word, Torygg's world exploded in a blinding flash of light, pain and noise.

The counsel were thrown back against the wall and Elisif slammed through her seat, screaming. Blearily, Torygg looked up to see his last sight – Ulfric Stormcloak, marching towards the king with steel in hand. He closed his eyes and yelled his frustrations as the cold steel ended his life. "It is over then. A Moot will soon be called." Ulfric spoke, his throat a little sore from his Thu'um. It had been a while since he'd had to use that power. _Not since the Markath incident_ he thought. The dazed counsel along with Elisif looked up to the Jarl in a mixture of emotions but Ulfric had no more time to spare. He began to run down the stairs, knocking over a maid who'd come to investigate and through the Blue Palace's doors. He quickly mounted his horse and dug in his heels in the beast, making it whinny in pain and gallop through the streets of Solitude. Falk Firebeard was the first to recover and he stumbled towards his quarters. Rummaging through his drawers, he procured a large war horn fashioned out of white bone. _The traitor, Ulfric had violated the laws of fair combat and used his Thu'um_ he thought. Grimly, he brought the horn to his lips and started a short series of sharp blasts which rang through the city. The sounds of the horns were serenaded with the cries of despair.

* * *

"By Talos!" Mathies burst from sleep and stormed out of his house. The horns were familiar to him and the rest of the city as it served to alarm the rest of the guards not to open the gate. These days, it had been used rather frequently but on this occasion, it could only mean one thing. He'd been right, and Ulfric had killed High King Torygg. He sprinted through the streets and alleys, not caring for the stone on his bare feet. As he ran, Mathies knocked on the doors of his closest friends who promptly joined him in running towards the gate. Although Roggvir was notorious for being a appraiser of Talos and Ulfric, now was the final test. Could the gatekeeper let the Jarl go – with own life on the line? It wasn't long before the group heard the cries of many. Most berated the Stormcloak on what he'd done – but these voices belonged to the Solitude Guard. Where were the people of the city? Mathies frowned and rose but hands behind him pulled him back down to the safety behind barrels as Ulfric Stormcloak himself entered their vision. The gates remained still and tension rose. Roggvir seemed to be debating with himself but sure enough, with the gatekeeper did not disappoint Mathies. With a groan, the gates opened and Ulfric Stormcloak, killer of kings and rightful ruler of Skyrim galloped into the night.

"Yes!"

"Roggvir!"

"Yea!"

The gatekeeper smiled down upon them before another voice broke into their celebration.

"Roggvir! What were you thinking, man?"

Mathies and his friends ducked down as Captain Aldis of the Solitude Guard walked in. He was followed by the rest of the panting guards who'd not been able to run after the horse. The Nord almost spit his words out, his moustache and beard trembling with every word. "Get down here!" Roggvir nodded once before shortly arriving in front of Aldis. He looked down at his feet for a moment before choosing to face Aldis eye to eye. "You have directly disobeyed an order from the steward. By this action, you have disobeyed me along with all of Solitude!"

Roggvir spoke tightly. "No, not all of Solitude! I have done only what a true Nord would do and everyone knows it. It was a fair duel and nowhere does it state for the winner to be-"

"That's enough of your insolence! Your actions have led to the murderer of the High King," a collective gasp spread out through the now gathered crowd, "getting away! Now Roggvir, you will come with me."

"…Aye." Defeated, his shoulders sagged. The gatekeeper allowed the guards to cuff him and drag him along to his fate.

"As for the rest of you, back to your beds!" At the captain's words, the crowd dispersed save for Mathies and his friends. He let out a soft whistle before jumping at a female voice.

"You were right Mathies."

"'Course I was Jeanne. You know what this means, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Revolution."


	2. First Meeting

The Winking Skeever wasn't the most ideal place to host a bunch of Stormcloak loving milkdrinkers as Corpulus Vinius so aptly called them. Still it was the only inn in the city and it was big enough so that a combination of luck, coin and charisma could effectively make the group invisible to the innkeeper's watchful eye.

Mathies carefully shut the door behind them and twisted the lock. The rented room's walls effectively toned down the rabble downstairs to a small murmur. Mathies ushered them all to sit down for they had much to discuss and not much time. The men flopped on any available space be it table, bed or floor but Mathies was the one to sit on the lone chair.

"Is everyone here? Jurgan, Alvis, Rolf, Leif – good! We can begin then."

A boy just hitting his adult years timidly raised his hand. With his sandy coloured hair cut short and big eyes, he looked a bit like a mouse. His big ears didn't help his case either. "W-what about Jeanne? Is this all?"

Mathies wrinkled his face and waved off his question. "She'll be here. Don't worry about that Jurgan. I expect things will start slow for a while. Everyone's too scared right now but mark my words," he glared at them all in turn ferociously, "they will come."

Seemingly satisfied with Mathies's answer or perhaps cowed by his intense stare, Jurgan nodded silently.

"Now then! Let's get on with it. As you all know a fortnight ago, Torygg was killed by Ulfric." Jurgan's pale face drained of whatever colour remained on his cheeks, leaving him a deathly white. The older man beside him gave him a powerful clap on the shoulder to snap him out of his pallor. Mathies continued to speak, barely giving them another glance. "It was for the best anyway. I've been calling off this meeting until now to give Elisif a chance to make things right. But what's become of our new Jarl? What's she done besides being a parrot for the steward and the Empire?"

Mathies's speech was interrupted by a rather slim man lounging on the bed. He shook back his long golden hair and snickered to no one in particular. "Parrot. That's a good on-" The man who'd clapped Jurgan on the shoulder earlier grumbled out a hoarse, "Shut your mouth Leif" which was sufficient enough to let Mathies continue.

"The White Gold Concordat," Mathies spat on the ground, "It goes to show how much the Empire's fallen. They ban our God and let those Thalmor freaks manhandle their own subjects. They're goddamn Mer for Talos's sake! They don't belong in Skyrim, not as our jailors no. The Empire we knew is dead. For the love of Talos, dead! It's not looking after Skyrim anymore – they don't care for our customs, our people, our land. They're weak enough to trade their people's rights to appease the elves. Now Ulfric! There's a leader if I ever saw one. I've heard all about his Stormcloaks and how they're taking the battle straight against the Empire. He's not scared of any pointy eared magicians! That's what we should be doing right now! I've had enough of lying down and getting stomped on and I know you do too!"

Mathies panted slightly and took the time to pour himself a small cup of mead. He hoped that he'd made any sense as although speaking had always been his forte, the sight of such few supporters tonight had weighted his tongue. Solitude was an Empire supporting city, Mathies knew that! He'd still hoped that more would have come though such as Greta. She wasn't still broken over Roggvir's imprisonment, was she?

Mathies frowned before another man rose to speak his mind. He was young, just like his friends but his eyes seemed to belong to those much older and wiser than himself. His bald head, thick beard and moustache gave him the appearance of a few more years but his soft voice revealed the truth. A miner by day and thinker by night, his name was Alvis.

"I see where you're going with this Mathies. What do you want us to do though? Ulfric's not going to come by here any time soon and we're no match for the Empire. Ysmir's beard, we're not even a match for a squad of guards. I don't see what we can do but wait and hope for the Stormcloaks to reach us – that is, if General Tulius doesn't get them first."

He looked around at his peers' dumbfounded faces before sighing. "Tulius? Too much in love with Ulfric to hear the real news? Word has it that the Empire's sending a new general from Cyrodiil itself. Supposed to be a real strategist, that one. Won't be surprised if he manages to quash the rebellion in a matter of months."

Malthies bristled. "Whose side are you on, Alvis?"

"I love the Empire about as much as you do Malthies. All I'm saying is that whatever you have to do – you'd better start planning fast."

"We should fight! There's no one out there who can best a Nord in a fair match!" Jurgan's shrill voice piped up, making Leif chuckle meanly.

"Sit back down Jurgan! You fight? With those chicken arms? You couldn't take a Skeever armed to the teeth, you milkdrinker!"

"Could too!"

"Prove it then!"

"Shut up!"

The room instantly quieted when the great bear of a man let out a roar. It was for good reason was well – Rolf had earned his reputation for fighting off a cave bear barehanded. He had the scars and the lame eye to prove it too. His battle scars had not aged him however and Rolf fit in relatively well with the others at the age of twenty and four years. Tall, muscular and tight lipped, Rolf rarely spoke but when he did it was with great presence. After a few moments of awkward silence, Malthies finally began speaking again.

"No. We cannot come to rash decisions. We need something to bring out the true Nord blood in all of us, something big. Something that'll make everyone boil – I've got it. Roggvir's execution."

For a moment, the room stayed silent before they all exploded with their own opinions. Malthies slammed his hand into the table to gain their attention.

"Yes! Roggvir's execution. He's not been sentenced yet but you know that's what he'll land up with! You know! When his head rolls across the floor, when our brethren see this violation of our customs – that's when we strike! Their anger," he nodded confidently, "will break their fear on that day and they will have to come. By the Nines, they'll definitely come when we call. They have to."

Rolf grunted. "Roggvir is a good man. We should be focused on saving him instead of acting like vultures. I don't like it."

Malthies shrugged. "What else can we do? We can't exactly break Roggvir out from prison. He'd understand."

"Jeanne can. She's part of the-"

"She wouldn't and besides, Roggvir's execution would prove more valuable to us than him being rescued."

Malthies could see Rolf's muscles tensing up beneath his skin and for a moment wondered if he had gone too far. The other Nord seemed ready to punch him in the face at any given moment but after a few hard moments, Rolf deflated as if someone had let the air out of him.

"I trust you, Malthies."

"I know. Otherwise you lot wouldn't be here but be reporting to Captain Aldis instead."

"This seems cruel to me. Roggvir has a family Malthies."

"Think on it Alvis. You think that if we break him out they'll be any better? Roggvir would be captured thrice fast and his family will have to bear a second goodbye. Don't look for hope where there is none… I'll call another meeting again soon. Try to bring others along next time. From the poorer areas of Solitude – yes, they exist and stop laughing Leif! – they'll know firsthand about how great the Empire is. Until then my friends."

Shrugging, the men began to leave one by one between intervals of five minutes to prevent any nosy citizen from noticing their little party. Malthies was sure to give each man a solemn farewell as they left knowing that if they were possibly caught there would be consequences. Leif and Jurgan deserved more cutting remarks after what he'd seen today.

"Leif. Don't let that mouth get you into any more trouble."

"In what kind of trouble, eh?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face and get yourself an amulet of Mara if you're so open about it."

"When you put it that way… I'd rather keep my Talos one."

"Good choice. Jurgan! Look smart and just listen to what we say."

"Whatever you say, Mathies! Just send me the sign."

Be it with a dry laugh or an eager nod, eventually all of his companions had left and Mathies was left alone to rest in his room. He sighed and flopped onto this bed. The bed by itself made the thirty septims worth it – ten for the room and twenty for secrecy. It was a big upgrade compared to his bed at home, what with its rickety frame and ratty mattress. The worn out blankets weren't so bad during the summer but the cold season would bring about a draft to keep him up all through the night.

He gripped the quilts in sudden anger. How dare the Empire surrender to the Thalmor? It was a spit in the face of those who had died fighting against them. He knew firsthand of the pain that the Great War had brought to the people as his father had been a Legionnaire. No matter what anyone said about Sovngarde and a noble death, the news of his father's passing had torn his mother to shreds. At least praying to Arkay and Talos at the Temple of the Divines had served to ease her aching heart some but no, the Empire would take even some of that from her. Mathies sighed and ran his hand through his slightly curly hair.

It had been a long day so far but it was far from over yet. Mathies didn't have to wait long though as a small knock sounded at his door around a half hour later. The Nord quickly rose from the bed and unlocked the door to see Jeanne. "Jeanne! You're late. The others have already left."

"Sorry. Ever since Torygg's death they've been making us patrol more than ever. How are you?"

"Been better. Today's meeting was a complete flop. Spoke like a true milkdrinker, I could barely get the words past my tongue Jeanne."

"Don't be like that; you've always had… something about you. I've always liked the way you've, uh, spoken."

"What do you mean Jeanne? You pulled me off the barrels that night."

"I didn't say I liked what you talked about. Don't worry so much – many still wear Talos's amulet. You just haven't seen them yet but I know they've seen you. Hard to miss you, Mathies."

"By Talos, is grouchy old Jeanne trying to cheer me up? Maybe if you raid the armoury and bring me back good Nord steel that'll do the trick. Save your breath and just listen." He spoke with a bitter smile but faltered when he noticed something off about her. Her silvery grey eyes, which he'd often described as wolf-like were sharper than usual and her jaw was set. Her tense body language told Mathies all he had to know and he regretted from speaking out so soon. He coughed and pulled the door closed behind them. "What's wrong?"

She pursed her mouth in displeasure and simply shook her head. "Nothing."

"Jeanne. I've known you for how long now?"

"I said nothing's wrong Mathies. Stop trying to-"

"Okay, fine then. There's something I need you to do."

"Oh? Bring back 'good Nord steel?'"

"Don't give me that look. Listen – you're the only one who has contact with-"

"I'm not your carl! Mathies, I don't know what you're planning but leave me out of it! I became a Solitude guard to help protect the city, not help lead a rebellion."

"And a fat lot you're doing to help the city. You and the rest of the damned guards – don't tell me you're going to be licking the Thalmors' boots next? If you're not with us," he gave her a scrutinizing stare, "then why are you even here?"

"That's a low blow, Mathies. Don't you ever think of anything but this stupid revolution?"

"There's nothing to hit, is there? What kind of Nord are you, Jeanne?"

"Oh, oh… go jump in Oblivion for all I care. Now, let me go!"

With a growl, Mathies found his hand being wrenched off by both of Jeanne's arms. He stumbled backwards for a step or two. He watched her storm out of the room before stopping her. "You're not selling us out?"

Jeanne pulled her hand out of his grip, glaring at the Nord. "Didn't you say you knew me, _mister_ Bjornsen?" Mathies wordlessly let her arm drop by her side and watched the woman disappear into the night.

"What's wrong with her now?" He sighed and tried to return to his previous state of peace but his troubled mind did not register the bed's comfort nor did it accept the nothingness of sleep. He tossed and turned for what seemed like ages before finally falling silent.

* * *

**Author's Notes: I can't do this characterization thing right but I'll try better in the future. As of now everyone seems pretty similar to me. The ending seemed a bit awkward to me as well, kinda abrupt and stuff. ****Hope you guys/girls enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it though! **


	3. Imperials Arrive

Being near the coast made Solitude an excellent trading port and the busy marketplace was enough evidence to prove it. Under the gaudy and colorful banners adorning the streets were dozens of merchants, each clamoring over the other to better advertise their wares. Leif browsed the stalls with his fellow members from the Bards College. It was clear from a far distance that they were all in a negative mood. For once, his wide grin had been wiped off his fair face.

"Can you believe it Leif?" A young Redguard man scowled.

"Pssah, Ataf! Jarl Elisif's been making mistake after mistake after mistake. Invite the Imperials into our city for all I care but banning our festival?" Leif spat on the ground. "As if anyone's really scared of the burning. Ol' Olaf One-Eye's been part of our culture for years and no one's ever objected it… ever!"

The other bards grumbled various words of agreement and the group wallowed in their frustration together. Leif moodily detached himself from the others and wandered on over to Evette's stand where the older woman sold her famous spiced wine. It was about the only thing that he felt would cheer him up at the moment and with the festival being banned, the woman would have many bottles in stock.

"Evette! How's about a bottle?"

"Mornin' to ya, Leif. Like I always say, a bottle of wine to warm you up for a few pieces of gold." Evette held out her hand expectantly, palm up to receive her pay.

Leif dug into his back pocket with a grin and hesitated as he fingered his meager five pieces of gold. It'd take some serious talking to win his bottle. Leif stooped down and kissed her weathered hand before dropping his coins into her outstretched palm.

"That's it? Ya know the price, Leif."

"Oh Evette. Ever since Elisif banned our festival I've been a wreck. I'm sure such a smart, pretty, young lady like yourself can understand, right?"

The merchant snorted. "Have you looked at me closely Leif? You never seem to have the coin and with the festival being banned, like you said, it's going to be mighty rough for me to sell these bottles. I've cut corners before when it comes to you but no can do."

"Aaaaw, Evette. C'mon, look – I'll sing for you. I am a bard you know, one of the best when it comes done to it – looks included."

"Song doesn't get me any coin, young man. Now bug off, and gimme that bottle back."

With a dramatic sigh, Leif relinquished his hold on the wine and walked off. "Alright darling. I'll come back with the coin for you."

This day was just getting worse and worse – now what was he to drink, common mead from the Winking Skeever? Not likely. He looked around for someone familiar to pawn some money off and he thanked the gods when he spotted Mathies, Jurgan and Rolf conversing over at a stand.

"Hey, hey! Guys!" Leif hurriedly jogged over to the group, clapping them each on the shoulders to peer onto the wooden surface of the stand. The cases and crates were stocked full of random pieces of loot – be it jewellery, food or furs. Rolf seemed to be the one selling the items, as he sat on a worn out stool behind the wares.

"Since when did you become a merchant, Rolf?" The sight of the burly man sitting cramped behind the stand made the man break out his trademark smirk onto his face and he laughed in delight. "Jack of all trades, huh?"

Rolf's face flushed and he opened his mouth to retort before a shrill chirp broke in.

"My brother's going to get rich! Then he promised to buy me a dolly!"

"No, he promised me that he'd buy me a sword!"

Leif raised his eyebrows in surprise as a ragtag duo of brats popped their heads out from between Rolf's arms. Their faces were smudged with dirt, their hair stringy and wild and their clothes were on the way to becoming rags. Their look of happiness far outshone all these qualities though and they seemed more content than any noble.

Mathies stepped forwards, a familiar gleam in his eyes starting to shine again. "Actually, we're going to use the money to-"

"To buy a doll and a sword." Rolf rumbled, his hard stare leaving no room for arguments.

"We'll take this somewhere else, shall we?" Mathies began to walk, motioning for Leif to follow him. The bard shrugged and followed him, leaving Jurgan and Rolf behind to take care of the sales. He weaved his way through the crowd and into an alley where Mathies stood waiting for him.

"Okay. You've led me all this way so fill me in."

"Since Jeanne's not going to help us, we're going to have to do this the hard way. We're selling whatever we can to get enough money to arm ourselves."

"Oh, so this is about your revolution again. Of course."

"You think we'd stand a chance armed with pots and pans? Weapons don't come cheap and none of us know how to work the smithies. So, if you're with us – come back with whatever you can part with."

Leif groaned in mock disappointment. "Now I'll never be able to taste Evette's spiced wine again. You won't have me sell all my clothes, will you? Those are like, like my trademark! It's Leif – you won't see anyone else look better in those outfits."

Mathies only responded with a tight smile. "Rolf's selling his parent's things and I've sold my own house – and for a cheap price, might I add. I'll have to bunk with Rolf now… even Jurgan's managed to dig up an amulet or two and he's just a kid. We need weapons," he smirked, "and a dolly." He turned on his heel and returned to the stand, leaving Leif alone scratching his head in shame.

"Well, let it never be said that Leif backed out on his friends." He spoke softly, fingering a heavy silver amulet underneath his clothes. It would sell for a mere fifty gold coins but it'd be something at least. He sighed at the thought of selling all his brightly coloured clothes – he'd make it a sure point to try them all on at least one more time before exchanging them for pile of coins.

It was upon moving out of the alley that he bumped heads with a Solitude guard – Jeanne to be exact. He scowled at the brunette. "Leif. You weren't selling skooma, were you?" She offered him a small smile but he noted the strain in holding it.

"Skooma ruins your complexion, you know." Leif shrugged. "I 'spect you want to talk to Mathies. He's over there."

Jeanne frowned. "How'd you know? What if I wanted to talk to you for a change?"

"Everyone knows Jeanne. Absolutely," he leaned in, winking, "Everyone." He pecked her on the lips and laughed at her mortified expression. Dodging her slap, he led her over to the stands.

"Jeanne. What do you want?" Mathies' voice was cold and stern. He hadn't seen her since she'd run off a few days ago. "I've got no time for an Empire loving Nord."

Jeanne's voice matched his coldness word for word. "What about a friend, Mathies?"

"Just tell me what you want Jeanne."

She blew air out of her cheeks before answering. "I just thought you'd like to know," she chose her next words with care, "that today's the day General Tullius is supposed to come to Solitude. He'll bring with him plenty of Imperial soldiers as well. Whatever you plan to do Mathies, just be careful. I don't want you – actually, any of you to get hurt."

She scanned each of their faces. "Rolf – who's going to take care of your siblings if you die? Mathies, the same foes for you and your mother. And you! Jurgan! What would your mother say? Do you know who much she worries even now about you even talking to us?"

"Jeanne, Jeanne! What about me?" Leif grinned expectantly.

"I'm being serious Leif! Although for you, I suppose those concubines you visit so often will be devastated to hear of your death or rather, the death of their coin."

Mathies stood up with a scowl, slamming his fist on the stand. "That's enough Jeanne! If you cared that much for us you'd be with us the entire journey. Enough with your pussyfooting – where do you stand?"

She paused as her conflicting emotions passed visibly across her face. She paused then, tilting her head as if she were trying to hear something faraway.

"Well?"

"Tullius."

"What?"

"Tullius is here."

The Nord woman was right as the horn sounded to announce the Imperial's arrival. The ground shook slightly as the huge legion of Imperials, fresh from Cyrodiil began swarming into Solitude. Mathies scowled as he watched the gate creak open. A middle aged man with his grey hair cropped short stood in front of his army. His unique armor let everyone know that without a doubt that this was the man assigned to Skyrim.

This was the man made for crushing the rebellion, to do what those before him could not, to capture Ulfric Stormcloak and unite Skyrim under one banner again - the Empire's. This was General Tullius.

He looked around the city with his pale eyes, drinking in every detail. Mathies expected for him to almost begin a speech right there but all he heard as a simple, "To Castle Dour for tonight, men," before the entire group began to make their way through the market place. It took minutes for the last straggler to disappear from the group's sight and the awe struck silence they left behind in the square was deafening to Mathies's ears. Whatever else it might be, it was definitely a morale crusher.

Unsteadily, he moved his face to meet Jeanne's before asking his previous question. "Well, there you have it. So what's your answer? No, wait. Don't answer me now." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "We'll have another meeting tonight then. Bring all you can, we'll meet in the Skeever. Damn place will be packed after that so old Corpulus won't bother us or even see us for that matter. Jeanne. If you come tonight, that'll be your answer." 

* * *

**Author's Notes: I think the action is a little fast paced but I'm not so sure what to do to stop it hah. It'll come with time I suppooooose. =)**


	4. Castle Dour's Prison

"Around five thousand septims." Rolf chuckled as he began to pack up the stand. Although it had taken the most out of three days full of nagging, the group had walked away with their pouches heavier and hearts lighter.

"That's like, a hundred dolls!"

"Or a hundred swords!"

"That's right, Ana. Bjen, I reckon you'll make a fine warrior yet." He smiled but upon seeing the look on Mathies's face he gave each child a crate to hold and ushered them off to the house. "What's wrong?"

"Five thousand septims… it's hardly enough for a few sets of armour, let alone weapons." Mathies's voice was strained.

"Five thousand can net us many weapons – forget the armour. We're citizens, not soldiers. The real problem here is finding a smith."

"By Talos, and you think we'll be better swordsmen as well? We'll be dead citizens without the armour!"

Saying no more than a noncommittal grunt, Rolf hoisted the rest of the stand on his shoulder and left leaving Mathies alone with his thoughts. The others had left long ago citing different reasons but now Mathies wished he'd sent them to look for a blacksmith – Solitude's Beirand was an Empire supporter through and through. There was no way that an order such as theirs would go unnoticed unless the order came from a regular. "Jeanne. Dammit, why are you gone now?"

Mathies began to job through the city's streets, ducking through people and carts alike, darting in and out of alleys before finally giving up in a huff. Solitude was an enormous city, he'd give it that and the chances of finding one specific guard out of the many which were on patrol was impossibly slim. Today seemed especially busy though and Mathies found himself in a crowd of people overlooking Castle Dour where the Imperials had stayed.

What was going on? He squinted at a figure who was shadowed by the sun. His grim and scratchy voice gave away who he was however. "Citizens of Solitude. Today marks the day that we stomp out the last of this rebellion. I understand that the Stormcloaks have been getting bolder, even daring to strike out against some of our forts. I understand some of you fear that perhaps the Empire has forsaken you. Perhaps we are sell-outs to the Thalmor, perhaps we seek to destroy Skyrim's culture – the list is neverending!"

Shocked silence ensued with a few scattered cries of "That's right!" and "No!". Mathies ground his teeth as he watched Tullius stare over the crowd. His pale eyes seemed to pierce into every person gathered in the square and although he was not shouting, his voice held power in it so that even the smallest whisper would capture their attention.

"These are all lies – propaganda spread by Ulfric Stormcloak and his little army. They are the traitors, not only to the Empire but to you, the citizens as well. How many of us have felt our own brothers, our sisters cut away from our lives by a Stormcloak's bloody blade?"

"They abandon your lives simply for not following their misguided agendas. They call you cowards for believing in the Empire that has always had Skyrim's best interests at heart. Are they really the true Nords that they claim to be or are they just glorified bandits? The Empire has never, never forsaken you! I will prove my words with the capture of Ulfric Stormcloak; I will end this rebellion once and for all. We will depart in a few days with or without your support but citizens of Solitude, I ask you this: would you have a murderer and a tyrant for High King?"

As he spoke, the people gradually became bolder. At first there was scattered applause, a few whoops before the entire gathering broke in support for the Imperials. Whatever few Stormcloak supporters there had been were either drowned out or cowed in the face of such love for the Empire. Mathies cupped his hands together and booed loudly, garnering him some knowing glares. He didn't care for it though, was everyone so willing to just lie down and let the Empire stomp all over them if it meant that they'd be left alone? Was everyone so scared to step up?

Mathies looked the sea of faces and the sight of those like him bolstered his resolve. They were grim and uncaring; faces chiseled out of stone. The crowd drowned his ears with their cheers for the Empire and Mathies started to see red. He'd always been a little hot headed and he couldn't just sit still with his angry blood running thorugh him. Pushing his way through the crowd, he snatched up an apple from a Dunmer woman's stand and hurled it at Tullius.

"You lying Imperial bastard!" His anger put a haze on top of his senses and he did not recognize anything – not the Dunmer's shocked yell nor the crowd's angry jeers. The only thing he was focused on was the Imperial standing atop Castle Dour and the shit he was spouting from his mouth.

"You filthy Imperial! What would you know about Nords, or the Stormcloaks! And all of you! By Talos, you should all be ashamed. Ashamed! You cheer for this Thalmor sell-out? Talos himself would be turning in his grave to have his Empire lowered to this, this doghouse full of yammering Thalmor loving bitches. Go back to Cyrodiil, you traitor! Go back to Cyrodiil you milkdri-"

He gave a gasp for air as he felt the impact of a steel plated fist empty his lungs. Again and again, amidst the chaos that ensued as the people scattered around him. Eventually, Mathies was left curled in fetal position gaping like a fish and glaring up at the legionnaires who had attacked him. Already he could feel the effects of the Imperials moving in to Solitude – their treatment was much more rough and effective than the Solitude guards.

Wincing at his bruised ribs, he made to move up when he was socked once again leaving him dazed on the ground. The metallic taste of blood was in his mouth and his head was ringing. He barely registered the sound of the shackles being procured by the legionnaires nor did he feel himself being hauled to his feet.

By now the crowd had turned their attention back to Tullius and save for the few Stormcloak supporters, none noticed the Nord being hauled off to the Solitude prison. Mathies staggered in between the two Imperial soldiers and tried to save some of his dignity. "Don't touch me; I can walk." He savagely shrugged off their grasping hands and walked with his back straight and chin up. "I said, don't touch me!"

"Attitude as usual, eh Mathies? I warn you - if you run, we won't hesitate to beat you."

The Nord paused midstride before turning to look at his captor. He seemed all too familiar to him, not to mention how he knew Mathies's name.

"Keep moving." When he didn't move, the Imperial gave him a harsh shove sending him stumbling a few steps forward.

"How did you know my name?"

"I said, 'Move!'"

With that, he felt his dignity being robbed as the two Imperials lost their patience. They forcibly grabbed his arms and shoved him along. Mathies felt his face flush as he felt the citizen's curious gazes touch him but it wasn't long before he was greeted with Castle Dour. Mathies spat at the Imperial flags hanging alongside the Solitude ones, earning him another cuff on the head. His bruised eye was starting to swell now and a small cut on his brow constantly trickled out blood, blinding him even more.

Soon, they were met with the door to the prison. It emanated hopelessness, what with its creaky hinges and twisted frame. The inside wasn't much better either. There appeared to be no other inmates in at the time and yet the Imperials chose to lock Mathies in the worst one of them all. Granted the best was not much better but at least the hay there was dry. In this cell, it looked as if its previous captive had fallen short on the haystack.

With a grim chuckle, the legionnaire slammed the door shut and turned the lock. The sound of the keys rustling all the way up the steps before disappearing with the slam of the door echoed despair to Mathies. He was truly alone then in this cell and he inwardly cursed himself for being so rash. He had called for a meeting today and now without him, the group would get nothing done.

He wished Alvis had been there to restrain him, Rolf even or maybe perhaps Jeanne. He shook himself before leaning on a cold barred wall. Regret wouldn't help him here though, only time would free the Nord. A raspy cough broke through his thoughts and Mathies turned round with a start, fists up.

"Calm down. It's just me."

Squinting through the dark, Mathies inched closer to the bars to see a haggard looking man sitting chained to the wall. He looked like any man from the poorer sections of Solitude albeit more forlorn than any he'd ever seen. Still, something about his face and voice seemed familiar to him.

"Do I look like an exhibit to you, you slack jawed idiot? Thought you were good for speaking, Mathies."

"By Talos… Roggvir?"

"Aye. 'Though I go by prisoner nowadays."

"One more thing we have in common then, eh?"

The former gatekeeper let out a hoarse chuckle before abruptly bursting out into a coughing fit. It took him a few moments to gather himself together but in that short time period the pair had already received a few "shut ups!" from the guards above. Roggvir weakly made to wipe his mouth on his shoulder but only succeeded in lightly brushing his lips on the fabric. "Mathies. I don't suppose I'll get out of here. Will I?"

Mathies hung his head, his curly hair obscuring his vision. It seemed only a few minutes ago he'd been talking of sacrificing Roggvir but speaking with the gatekeeper in person changed everything.

"I'll take that as a no. I saw it coming anyway, what with Tullius coming and all. I've already accepted my fate… Sovngarde draws nearer with every day. I just want you to do a favour for me – don't worry, it's small."

"If it's within my power." He nodded curtly.

"I just want you to tell my sister and Svari how much I love them. Sometimes," Roggvir's voice cracked, "Sometimes when I think about them I regret letting Ulfric go. I think 'was it all worth it?' To leave them all alone now – who's to take care of them? Addvar? Damn fisherman can't earn a Septim to save his own hide let alone Svari's and Greta's."

Mathies stood up abruptly and slammed his hands onto the bars, straining to get closer to Roggvir. His eyes were feverish and his voice strong once more. "You did the right thing Roggvir. Don't let the damned Empire tell you otherwise and don't worry about your family. I'll give your message and what's more, I'll make sure to keep an eye out for Svari. She won't starve if that's what you're scared of."

"…Aye. Aye! You're a good man Mathies." Roggvir cocked his head, his furrowed brow turning towards the stairs. "Someone's coming."

The pair looked down and away from each other as the familiar jingling of the keys signaled a guard's return. Light hearted chuckles and other noises of merriment drifted down into the prison, contrasting sharply with the mood down below. A beam of light cut through the shadows, illuminating all the dust in the air and a familiar looking guard stepped down, a bemused smile on her face.

Mathies let himself smile for a moment before calling her over. "Jeanne! It's about time. Come on, come on then. Let me out of here."

She sauntered over to his cell door and shook the keys mockingly in Mathies's face. "Looks like someone's been a baaaaaaaad boy. What'd you do now, attack Tullius?"

"Something like that." Mathies gave a wry grin. "Before your Imperial friends butt in. They have some muscle behind their punch."

"Seriously? I was kidding about Tullius. How dumber can you get?" Leaning over, Jeanne began to work on the lock. With the amount of keys that she had on her, it took her minutes to pry each one into the lock to see if it'd fit.

"Dumb? What about brave? No one else spoke up; some one's going to have to stand up for us."

"You'd be surprised to find how often those two mingle." The guard muttered under her breath before she was finally rewarded with the satisfying clunk of the unlocking door. She pulled it open with a swing and helped Mathies up to his feet. "Let's go. Smells like Skeever down here."

"Having you down here doesn't help." He winked and lightly bumped her shoulder. "Did I ever mention you smell like wet dog sometimes?"

"Oh shut up." Jeanne pulled out a second pair of keys and worked on Mathies's cuffed hands. The metal left behind an angry looking imprint on his wrists and she clucked sympathetically. Chucking the cuffs back into his cell, Jeanne began to walk back towards the door.

She did not stop to look back at Roggvir's hopeful glance and neither did Mathies. The duo reeked of guilt and they hurried up the steps and out of the gatekeeper's sight. Several Imperial soldiers and a few Solitude guards stood up in alarm as Jeanne ushered Mathies through their quarters and towards the door.

"Ho Jeanne – where are you going?"

"He's still a prisoner!"

"D'you want to be arrested as well?"

With an exasperated sigh, she turned around and glared at them all. "I've paid for his bounty. Just… let it go. Prison time for throwing fruit?"

"And slander!"

"Whatever." She leant over and whispered into Mathies's ear. "I'll meet you at the Skeever. Don't worry, I'll take care of this."

"Alright. Take care." Letting out a curt nod, Mathies quickly left the vicinity, leaving Jeanne alone with the confused jail keepers.

"Jeanne. I'm going to have to report you to Captain Aldis. We've been watching you now for some time."

With a sigh of resignation, the woman shrugged wearily. "Okay, okay. Report me to Tullius too while you're at it, why don't you?"

"Enough of your lip, let's go. Sooner this is over with sooner I can get a break." The guard nodded over to the Imperial legionnaires and the group marched Jeanne out of the barracks and into Castle Dour. The archway loomed over the group and the red flag of Solitude fluttered weakly in the wind. The castle gave off a distinctly solemn tone and the only sound was that of blacksmiths' forge in the distance.

They entered the castle and promptly went off to fetch Captain Aldis, leaving her standing alone in the lobby. She could hear Tullius and his Legate talking in another room and the curious stares of the legionnaires dotting the room suddenly made her feel self-conscious. Jeanne had rarely been to Castle Dour as her rank was just that of a regular guard and she couldn't help but feel nervous standing in the presence of such important people. She snapped to attention as the Captain Aldis turned around the corner bearing an expression of both frustration and amusement.

"Sir!"

"Jeanne. What's this I hear about you releasing a prisoner?"

"I thought his sentence was too great for his crime sir. I paid his bounty in full and let him go. I will accept any punishment you give me sir!"

"Jeanne. Look me in the eyes." He frowned, unsure of how to phrase his sentence. "There will be times when we will be forced to confront our own friends. It's the harsh truth of this war and I need to be sure that you understand that your loyalties lie with Solitude now. Not your friends but with the city. Do you understand me?"

"Where does Solitude's loyalties lay sir?"

"With the Empire of course. We have always sided with the Empire and we will continue to lend them our support. Is that clear?" He raised an eyebrow at her as if to voice his unspoken question of _'Are you serious?'._

"Yes sir." Her shoulders slumped as she awaited her punishment.

"Good lass. I'll let you off this time only but next time," he gave her a hard stare, "you'll share their sentence. Get on home now Jeanne." With that, Aldis walked off briskly leaving Jeanne confused but happy in the lobby. She'd fully expected a bigger punishment or at the very least a cut to her paycheck but he'd shown mercy. Jeanne let out a huge sigh of relief and felt the unknown tension in her shoulders go away. She began to jog out of Castle Dour and upon seeing how dark it had become, she sprinted the rest of the way to the Winking Skeever.


End file.
